Four
by Pawthorn
Summary: Drabble-shots inspired by Series Four. Spoilers for all episodes. Now: Coming Soon -A shameless plug for my new fic, Five.
1. Sacrifice

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin._

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><p>Sacrifice.<p>

She had heard the word before. She had made many sacrifices herself. For her friends, long ago, when she had friends. For her family, when she had a family. And for her sister.

When she had a sister.

Only now, alone, with the memory of the coldness of the blade in her hand and warmth of the blood on her fingers did she truly understand what sacrifice meant.

And she hated it.

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><p>Sacrifice.<p>

He thought knew what it meant. He had given up many things for Camelot. His freedom. His love. He had always been willing to give his very life.

Soon, he would do so.

But now, as he watched his unarmed servant leap towards certain death, doing what he could to save his master, his friend, he saw what sacrifice really was.

And it awed him.


	2. Stolen Glory

"_If anyone can get Merlin back to Camelot, Lancelot can."_

Sir Leon's words from a few days ago echoed in his ears as he watched the cape and sword disappear in the flames. Because it was true, wasn't it? Lancelot had always been a perfect knight—kind, noble, courageous—not because he was born into a role and had to be, but because he chose to be. It astounded Arthur. He had to work at being a good man, had to fight against his every instinct and check himself at every turn. And Lancelot made it look so easy.

He rushed in with a torch and vanquished the dorocha while Arthur was sprawled on the floor.

He single-handedly saved Merlin when Arthur failed to do so.

And then, he died.

Lancelot died over a promise, a vow he made to the woman he loved, that he would protect the man she loved. He had given her up because it was the honorable thing to do, and he died for Arthur, the one man standing between him and happiness.

Lancelot had saved Camelot.

Arthur knew he should be grateful, but as he stood before the funeral pier, saw the rows of solemn knights and the tears pouring down his beloved's face, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything except sickly resentment.

Because Lancelot was a hero, and Arthur wasn't.


	3. A New Day

_Long live the King!_

Geoffrey's words echoed through the hall, but Merlin barely heard them.

_Long live the King!_

The crowd responded, and their voices were filled with pride and love for their new leader. But it didn't really matter, because nothing was going to change. Arthur had said it was a new day, and he was right. A new day of living in fear, hiding who he really was. A new day serving a King who hated magic.

_Long live the King!_

And it was Merlin's fault.

_Long live the King!_

It had seemed like a joke at first. Playing Dragoon the Great again, and wondering how thick Arthur had to be not to see through the charade. Then, Arthur was promising to return magic to the land, and Uther was awake. Merlin had saved the king with magic, and Arthur saw that sorcery could be a force for good.

But then, something went wrong. Uther was gasping, choking, dying… dead. Merlin had killed him. Arthur was drawing his sword to avenge his father, and Merlin had to use a spell to subdue the man he was destined to aid and protect.

_Long live the King!_

Merlin had seen the guilt and grief in Arthur's eyes. He could feel it in his own soul as he mourned a future of peace that he knew now would never come. He had given Arthur far more reason to hate magic than Uther ever had.

_Long live the King!_

And yet… when had anything ever gone according to his plans? When had he ever been able to change what was destined to be? He had done what he could to save the king, to help Arthur, to bring about the return of magic. He had been beaten this time.

_Long live the King!_

That would not happen again.

_Long live the King!_

Merlin looked at his master, his friend, his king, and pushed his despair aside. Arthur had called Merlin a loyal friend, and he would be one. He would stand by Arthur, not because of destiny or duty, but because he knew Arthur was a good man. Merlin had faith that Arthur would unite Albion and bring about the return of magic one day. As the king met his eyes and smiled, Merlin couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Arthur already knew who he really was better than anyone else. So the warlock lifted his voice to join the others.

_Long live the King!_


	4. Of Prats

_Finally, an episode with a happy ending! I can write something other than drama! Huzzah!_

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><p>As the knights stacked plate after plate on the growing pile in his hands, Merlin allowed himself to feel exasperated. Each man grasped him warmly by the arm and told him how wonderful and delicious the stew he made was, and Merlin wanted nothing more than to smash each of them in the face. What was going on with the normally helpful and considerate knights? They had never been like this before, and thank goodness too because he got enough of this kind of treatment from…<p>

Oh no.

That was it. That's what was happening. Merlin looked in horror at the king sauntering toward him. The rest of the knights were spending so much time with Arthur that they were… they were becoming… _prats!_

Arthur selfishly scraped the bottom of the pot, unaware of his servant's inner anguish—both of mind and belly. How could he cope with this? What would he do? One Arthur was bad enough, how would he deal with five? With a heavy heart, empty stomach, and overly full hands, he turned away from the group to go wash up the dishes.

"Merlin?"

The servant almost didn't turn around. The men had probably found something else for him to clean. However, when he looked back, he was greeted by smiling faces, laughing knights, and the last plate of food.

Merlin sat down and all but inhaled his meal. The knights and Arthur sat with him, chatting and joking. The servant sighed contentedly.

Once in a very great while, even prats could have their charms.


	5. Moody

_This is more of a one-shot that a drabble. It's Merlin's POV recounting the entire episode. To be honest, it's me ranting vicariously through Merlin. I actually really liked this episode, and I tend to have a harder time writing about episodes that I'm more satisfied with. By the way, are you excited about next week's episode? I know I am!_

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><p>Arthur, I know you're still grieving the loss of your father. You're still staggering under the weight of your new role as king. I know. I understand.<p>

But really, do you have to be so damn _moody_?

Last week, you were fine. You let me be bait for the outlaws, since everyone acknowledged that I was the fastest runner (and that I looked like an easy target, but that's not really important, is it?) So I finally got to be an integral part of the fight, and you and all of the knights actually witnessed my heroics!

But of course, right after my moment of glory, you had to go and ruin everything. Yes, right, Arthur, brilliant idea, taking advice from your sleazy uncle who wants to help you be like your father because everyone knows that Uther was just a fantastic king, which is why you never ever said he was wrong or disobeyed him… more than once… a week!

So then, after you'd had your fun slaughtering other rulers in cold blood, we went back to Camelot, where you informed me that you felt no regret after killing a man as if you were an executioner. Then you proceeded to tell me that you didn't need anyone. You said that to me. _Me_. The one who washes your clothes, polishes your boots, helps you with your armor, saddles your horse, mucks out your stable, sharpens your sword, cleans your room, brings you food, and saves your life almost every day! You are such an ass...

Next, you decided to listen to your greasy, war-mongering uncle again, and you made Gwen cry. What is wrong with you? That had better not happen again. Ever.

Then, off we went to battle, and when you got there, you suddenly realized that you had been a dollop-head and caused a war in which lots and lots of people were going to die. Wow, who could have seen that coming?

I must say, I didn't much fancy your solution to that either. Yes, it's very noble to enter an enemy camp unarmed, apologize to a grieving wife, and offer a peaceful solution to the conflict. But it's also very dangerous. Still, thanks for getting both of us out of there alive, even if you had to call me a simple fool to do it. And you were probably right—I am a fool. I hang around you, don't I?

Speaking of acting like an idiot, did you really have to be the champion for single combat? I know, I know, you were following your heart. But it's my job to keep that heart beating, and you make that _very _difficult sometimes. Although, I must say, I think I like you best when you're about to die. Just kidding. Mostly…

Still, you lived, thanks to yours truly. Despite your mistakes and your unstable personality, we all survived another adventure. And I'm here, riding beside you through the crowds of celebrating citizens, enjoying the moment and ready for whatever comes next.

But I don't say any of this to you. You already know what I need you to know, and we reestablish normality by exchanging taunting complements. So, until the next time your mood swings put the kingdom and your life in danger, I'll be here, ready and waiting.

Cabbage head.


	6. Knight Pile

_First of all: Best. Episode. Ever. I can't even handle how awesome that was. It had everything I could possibly hope for, and it didn't have a weird somewhat slashy moment like every other episode this season has had. My one complaint would be the strange, super slow battle of knocking each other over that Morgana and Merlin had. That was a bit lame. Everything else rocked. Really a lot. Worried Arthur! Concerned Gwaine! HUGS! Too bad Merlin won't remember that. And how great was nasty Merlin? "If you did want to hurt a fly, or even a human..." Anyhow, I've committed to doing these for every episode, so I will do it, even though nothing I have to say can possibly touch the epicness of that episode. Because it was epic and awesome and amazing and full of win. Okay. I'm done. Read on._

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><p>"...Ow" Gwaine tried to sit up, and quickly found that lying still hurt a lot less.<p>

"I agree," Elyan said in a strained voice from where he was sandwiched between Leon and Percival.

"Yeah," Percival moaned, "Um, I don't mean to be a bother, but would you two get off? Please?"

"Right, of course," Elyan attempted to sit up, but the knight on top of him didn't budge, "Leon?"

The knight in question shifted slightly, "Well... it's just..."

"What's wrong" Elyan asked, "Can't you move? Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine, but..." Leon raised his head, "That old sorcerer is still in sight. Based on past experience, I think it might be a good idea to lie still for a bit longer."

Surprisingly enough, no one argued. After a few more moments, Leon gave the all clear, and the knights got to their feet, mindful of their injuries. They began limping back toward Camelot.

"So," said Percival, "Who's going to tell Arthur?"

"Tell him what?" Gwaine chuckled, "That we found an old, frail, relic of a sorcerer, surrounded him, prepared to arrest him, but were defeated by his surprisingly fitting insults and magic? Oh yes, and that he actually used you three as stepping stones to climb on his horse and escape! Who wouldn't want to give His Royalness such wonderful news?"

The other knights winced. The group continued in silence for a few minutes.

"I think," Elyan said mildly, "That with everything Arthur's been going through this week, he doesn't need any more added to his plate."

"Yes," Leon said, nodding his head vigorously, "Besides, the old man didn't do any serious harm." The effect of this statement was ruined as he swerved drunkenly into a tree. Nodding may have been a bad idea.

"Alright," Percival agreed, "We'll keep this between ourselves." A grin slowly spread across his face, "You know, he was a sort of a funny old coot. For an evil sorcerer, anyway."

Leon started to chuckle, "How much have you three heard about the first time he came to Camelot?"


	7. Agravaine

_This is more of a character study than anything, because some amazing lying and manipulation went on in that episode. And because I don't quite know what to make of this character, and I've sort of been avoiding him. Enjoy!_

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><p>It was a gift he had always had—as natural as breathing and far more enjoyable. It had saved him more times than he could count. Sometimes he did it even when didn't need to, just for the thrill of it.<p>

Lying. He couldn't wield a blade, form a battle-plan, or lead an army—no, that was not his talent or his role. Instead, he used the sharp steel of words to defend himself; the quick and deadly darts of deception to pierce the chinks in his enemies' armor.

He couldn't remember the first time he realized he was a good liar. What stood out more in his memory was the first time he realized that other people could not and did not lie as he did. This skill, this ability set him apart from everyone else. It was his advantage over those who lacked the intelligence or the will to get ahead by any means necessary.

So he lied. From childhood to adulthood, he lied.

He lied when sweets went missing from the kitchen.

He lied when his sister's possessions were found broken after they quarreled.

He lied when the cat that scratched him as he tried to pet it was killed with a rock.

As a young man, he lied when the injured and weeping serving girl made accusations against him.

He lied about money.

He lied about how he spent his time.

He lied about his ambitions.

He lied about his feelings.

Now, he lied to his only living relative. He deceived and manipulated everyone around him. It made him feel powerful, in control. He was the master, using his brain to outwit the proud brawn of those around him.

And yet… there were times late at night, when the lines between true and false became blurred. He doubted. He stumbled. Reality and the world that he had fabricated jumbled together. What was he doing? Why? Who was he really? Once the lies and deception were stripped away, would there be anything left of him? Was there still a real person inside of him to stand in the light, or was he merely a shadow, a wraith without substance or soul?

The thought left him cold and trembling. Maybe he should change, stop, turn around, and become a man again instead of this thing he was now. But, that would require him to let go of his advantage and start all over again, without the aid of his one great talent. To place himself below others. To kneel before his nephew.

It was a huge decision. It required serious thought. Better leave it until the morning. He pushed the frightful thoughts away and slipped into slumber. He would think about it more tomorrow.

He ignored the little voice deep down that whispered, "Tomorrow never comes."


	8. Just a Servant

_I'm sorry that this is later than usual. I was in the last musical of my college career this weekend, and didn't even have the time to watch the show, let alone write about it. This coming weekend will probably be the same, since it's Thanksgiving and my grandpa's 80th birthday. Sorry. Again. But I hope you enjoy this :)_

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><p>Merlin packed up his things once more, making ready to leave the village. He wanted to be prepared, since Arthur had said they would be leaving for Camelot as soon as the knights were strong enough to ride.<p>

The knights…

Merlin didn't blame them for their behavior over the last couple of days—how could he? Only a short while ago, he himself had been enchanted and had tried to kill Arthur. They couldn't have prevented their actions any more than he could.

And yet… what they did and said had touched a nerve. There was truth in their words, horrible truth that had been repeatedly acknowledged by Morgause, Morgana, Uther, nobles, knights, and even Arthur: Merlin was just a servant. He'd lost track of how often he'd been told so. Again and again, friends and foes alike said he couldn't understand, couldn't help, couldn't think, and couldn't speak because he was just a servant. In the eyes of the world, he had no power and no voice. He tried to shove these dark thoughts away, to think of his magic, his destiny, and all the good he had done… but if he died tomorrow, who would care? What would it matter? He was _just a servant_.

"So, Merlin…"

The king's voice was full of derision as he interrupted Merlin's reverie, goading him about being saved by Gwen. The exchange was short, but Merlin found himself smiling as he bantered with his master. He was surprised when Arthur let him have the last word and left with a quick punch to Merlin's arm—the king's standard sign of affection for his men.

Merlin couldn't keep the grin off of his face as he returned to his work. Yes, he was a servant, but not _just_ a servant. He was servant and friend to King Arthur, the best man he knew.

To Merlin, there was no greater honor.


	9. Burdened

_Well. I was hoping to write something light, maybe some humor, but this past episode didn't really lend itself to that, did it? So, here's another angsty internal dialogue. Yay..._

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><p>The cart was heavy. It was clumsy and awkward. Over and over again, its bulky wheels became wedged in holes and trenches in the road. She pushed, pulled, sweated, slipped, and fell over and over again. Once or twice, she found herself straying from the road; she could hardly see past the tears that she couldn't seem to banish from her eyes. She was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally- she couldn't even remember how far away the nearest village was, how close she was to rest and shelter.<p>

The cart jolted to a stop, wheels jammed in the muddy road once more.

She set her jaw stubbornly and yanked, trying to free the horrible cart. She had to. She had lost her home, her friends and family, her love... her future. What she carried with her was all she had left.

She tried to pull it out. She failed.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to marry Arthur, become queen, and help her king lead Camelot to a glorious future. It had been years since she had considered another life.

She tried again. She failed again.

Camelot was her home. Everything she knew, everything she loved was there. How could she find a home anywhere else? She didn't even know who she was away from Camelot. Despair almost drove her to her knees.

She closed her eyes and, with all her force, tried one last time.

The cart slowly slid out of the rut, but Gwen didn't keep walking. She stood still in the road, just breathing, thinking. Then, she let go of the cart. She lifted her head and walked on, leaving her burden behind. She would still mourn the loss of her old life, but she had to accept that it was over. She had to let go. She had to move on.

She knew that she was strong enough to do it.


	10. Running Commentary

It was the voice that questioned every decision Arthur made.

_"Are you sure you want to do this?"_

It picked apart every sentence he spoke

_"What were you reading?"_

It could suddenly become deadly serious.

_"We shouldn't be here."_

But it could also make light of the most perilous situations.

_"Or we could just do it now… whatever it is we're doing… in the dark… when it's incredibly scary and dangerous."_

It was always there, no matter what happened.

_"Thought I might tag along—don't want you getting lost and scared."_

One minute, it would encourage Arthur to talk through his emotions.

_"Is this about Gwen?"_

The next, it would cheerfully tease him for showing his feelings.

"So there's no chance that we could have a hug?"

As the king chased the fleeing manservant, he imagined how quiet and dull life would be without his babbling observer. He then gave his commentator a good kick to send him running on his way.


	11. Wrath

As Agravaine smirked over Arthur's shoulder, Merlin felt his magic writhe inside his chest. It wanted to strike, to kill, to wipe this disgusting specimen of humanity off the face of the earth in a blinding, glorious flash.

Like Nimueh.

Merlin looked down and gulped a breath of air as the king and the traitor walked away. He left the vault on their heels, practically running unti he got to the safety of his room and shut himself inside, sinking to the floor and hugging his knees as he shivered uncontrollably.

Agravaine was a manipulative, lying snake. Soon, he would add another betrayal to Arthur's growing list of those he'd trusted who turned on him. But Merlin could not allow himself to hate this man. His magic was instinctual. It demanded justice; it insisted on death for this traitor. But Merlin had played executioner too many times. He wouldn't do it again.

So, the warlock sat, shaking, as mercy and wrath battled within him.


	12. Warmth

_Hello! I'm alive, and my only excuse for taking so long to update is that I had nothing to say about the last two episodes. I still don't have much to say, but I really ought to finish what I started. So enjoy :)_

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><p>Morgana had once longed for justice. Uther had been cruel and ruthless, and she wanted to end the pain and darkness of his reign. She wanted people with magic to live freely, without fear. She wanted peace.<p>

That dream was taken from her- torn away by Arthur and his band of traitors. Her sister and all her hopes for the future had been ripped away in an instant. She was left with nothing. No warmth. No comfort.

So, she turned to the only things she had left, fanning the fire of her hatred and wrapping her mind in bitterness. Anger kept her blood hot and revenge kept her heart beating. The life she lived was one of misery, but she did survive.

Now, though roaring hearths, soft cloaks, and strong castle walls surround her, they offer no more comfort than the drafty walls of her hovel. Malice and suspicion are still her sole sustenance- she can no longer stomach trust and friendship. So used to hiding and fighting, she does not remember how to stand and lead.

Why should she rejoice in victory and end the fighting? Peace is cold; it cannot keep her alive. The flames of battle are all she has to keep away the bitter chill of regret.

There will be no peace. Camelot must burn.


	13. Of Grief and Guilt

_I liked the idea of this one, but I'm not sure if it turned out the way I wanted it to. Student teaching is draining all of my creative energy! Anyhow, thanks to everyone who stuff with this, and double thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys are fabulous :)_

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><p>Arthur wandered through the halls of Camelot, glad to finally be alone after the fear and stress and elation of the last few days. He leaned against the blessed stones of the passage, relishing the feeling. These walls were his once more, and his people were safe.<p>

"I know how you're feeling."

Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin as the familiar voice echoed down the corridor. He had nearly snapped back a response automatically when he realized that his vociferous manservant was nowhere in sight and couldn't be speaking to him.

"Keep away from me, boy." The answering growl came from one of the little-used rooms at the end of the hall. Arthur moved toward it. It sounded Merlin was getting himself into trouble again, and though Arthur wasn't worried or anything, he couldn't very well let the idiot get himself murdered. The voices continued to drift from behind the closed door.

"Tristan, I know you're angry. It feels as though someone has taken your future, and all you want to do is hurt them as badly as they hurt you. But the only person to blame here is already dead, and you can't—"

"He is NOT the only one to blame!" Tristan suddenly screamed, "We were following your king, and he led her to slaughter!" Arthur stopped halfway down the hall, frozen by sudden guilt. Tristan blamed him for Isolde's death, and Merlin was trying to change his mind. It wouldn't work though, because Tristan was right—Arthur _was_ to blame.

"It was her choice to follow Arthur!" Merlin shouted.

"Arthur got his kingdom back for free! He lost no one! Well, maybe he'll understand the cost of victory better if he looses his faithful pet." The sound of a sword being unsheathed made Arthur's stomach drop. Even as he sprinted toward the door, he knew he wouldn't make it in time. He was going to listen to his friend die from twenty feet away, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it.

"Hating Arthur won't help you!"

"You don't know that!"

"YES, I DO!"

"HOW?"

"BECAUSE ARTHUR KILLED THE WOMAN I LOVED!"

The words hit Arthur two feet away from the door and stopped him cold.

"… You're lying," Tristan hissed.

"I wish I was," Merlin replied quietly. Outside the door, Arthur wished the same thing, but he could hear the horrible truth in Merlin's voice.

"Why?" said Tristan, warily, "Why would he do this?"

"She was a druid, and she was cursed," Merlin answered, "She meant no harm to anyone, but she was dangerous to the people of Camelot. But not to me. I could have taken care of her."

The druid girl, the one who transformed into a monster. Merlin had been acting suspicious at the time, but Arthur had never imagined he had been this involved with her. Still, the pain in Merlin's voice was evidence enough for Arthur. Tristan was also staying silent.

"We were going to run away together," Merlin continued, "But in the end, the curse took over, and Arthur… he had to kill her."

"How…" Tristan's voice broke, "How can you forgive him?"

"At first, I wasn't sure that I could. I was in so much pain, and at times, I wished that he had died and she had lived." Merlin paused, and Arthur held his breath. He knew he didn't deserve Merlin's forgiveness—he had never been able to even ask for it. But Merlin was his closest friend. Did his servant hate him? Did he still hold the girl's death against him? "In the end though, I realized that the anger and blame I felt wasn't really toward Arthur. It was toward myself. I should have looked after her better. I should have saved her."

The sound of a strangled sob that didn't come from Merlin and a sword clattering to the floor rang through the hall.

"But Tristan, blaming yourself won't bring her back any more than blaming Arthur would," Merlin's voice was quiet, but there was steel in it, "I can't promise that the guilt will go away, and I know that the pain will always be there, but you've got to keep living. Keep her memory alive through your life. Don't sully it with revenge and despair. Live for her."

Arthur turned away. Merlin would be safe now, and Arthur suddenly felt like an intruder for listening. He wandered the halls blindly, replaying what he had heard over and over again in his head. His feet soon led him to his ruined chambers.

And there was Gwen.

The time for pride and stubbornness was over. He was lucky. The one he loved was right in front of him. He would not let her go again.


	14. Coming Soon

_(AN: Hello again. The main purpose of this chapter is to let you know that I will be writing a drabble fic for Series Five of Merlin, called Five. Creative titling, I know. So, if you enjoyed these, read that, and join me in enjoying more Merlin.)_

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><p>The last three years had been better than anyone could have hoped for. There was peace, prosperity, and happiness in Camelot.<p>

But the laws against magic still stood.

Morgana was still alive.

Merlin's power was still a secret.

The young warlock tried to enjoy the joyful time, he really did. But he was always on guard, always ready to defend his king and Camelot. A strange anticipation was growing in his chest.

Though he couldn't say why, he felt that soon, things would come to a head, and he'd be back to saving Arthur's ass at least once a week.


End file.
